Saturday, October 27, 2012

La Gitana

La Gitana
has wheels, not roots.
She has, also, a blue babushka with white details--
it makes her hair seem like an October night
filled with stars.

La Gitana
calls to el gato,
but el gato does not answer.
In summer, at dawn,
he would bring her fat mice as though they were jewels--
then, on the seventh night of the seventh month,
he kept one for himself alone,
and his joy was such
that el gato never came back at all.

La Gitana
shakes out her hair
like a night wind blowing open a black gate.
Beyond it lie the fields--
La Gitana is a November flower,
never chosen, soon gone,
calling across the frost grass for el gato
who has already forgotten
her bangled, hopeful, empty arms.
_______

photograph by Mama Zen, whose work appears regularly in Fun With Gourds, The Amalgamated Exotic Baptists' Union Newsletter, and Now What Did I Do With My Glasses? Ms. Zen is adored by her adherents, who worship at a shrine they have built and dedicated to her glory, outside of Walmart.

La Gitana--a Spanish Gypsy woman
gato--cat

linked to Real Toads mini challenge 

 

 

23 comments:

TexWisGirl said...

love this line: shakes out her hair
like a night wind blowing open a black gate.

razzamadazzle said...

I love this! You never cease to amaze me with the characters you create.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I love the October night filled with stars. And one more lovely story. You seem to have an endless supply of them and each one is brilliant. Especially love "La Gitana is a November flower, never chosen, soon gone." And oh those bangled, hopeful, empty arms. Killer.

Ella said...

Love how you guided us! Great ending...You words so fit MZen's photo! I enjoyed it~ :D

Hannah said...

"it makes her hair seem like an October night
filled with stars."

"shakes out her hair
like a night wind blowing open a black gate."

"Never chosen, soon gone," and your last line, too...


Excellent writing, Shay!

Shadow said...

fickle creatures. breaking hearts...

Lynn said...

Beautiful and ethereal.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Ooh! Your empty-armed gypsy becomes October personified to me. I love the beauty of the description of her starry hair at the end of stanza 1. The cat and mouse of season's whim is truly inspired imagery.

hedgewitch said...

I'm glad to see the spirit of Babs D'Argent lives on in the post-poem notes, much to my delight. (I think I have put my loose change into that kettle at the shrines outside Wal-Mart.)

The first stanza is vintage Fireblossom,that misty and delicate feminine hand inside a glove of iron, hitting all the chins of cliche and convention and knocking them flat with simple, luminous imagery--and the whole poem goes on from there. Beautiful incense from the burning heart.

rosemary mint said...

This is so sad and lonely. I can almost see his glee at discovering he can make it without her. The world is full of flowers, is it not?

You can describe the beauty of hair like no other poet.

Your last stanza is my favorite (especially the opening of the black gate). Sorrow written with such care and beauty.

"calling across the frost" ... Exquisite rhyme/sound, my dear.

My absolute favorite part: "who has already forgotten
her bangled, hopeful, empty arms"

Great framing of the piece, opening and closing with the hair and gypsy references. Bravo. I love this one.

manicddaily said...

Such a wonderful vivid poem - This cat is pretty cool and I can imagining mourning woman - the cat not so bad now - the hair and bangled arms work beautifully.
Also adherent to MZ shrine though no walmarts in NYC. k.

Mama Zen said...

Lord, woman, this is gorgeous.

Now, what did I do with my glasses?

Sioux said...

This is a beautiful piece, Shay.

Now, if the shrine to Mama Zen is outside of Walmart, are her followers in those pictures of "People of Walmart"? Just wondering...

Helen said...

Gonna grow my hair long so I can shake it out like a night wind blowing open a black gate .. might take me a few years.

Susan said...

Gitana could be autumn herself; she could be the fleeting life of humanity; she is a fortune teller who people visit and leave as she is supposed to roll on, roll on. n your poem I felt for her and wanted her in my life--starlit skies, grateful cats, a never-never land of youth and romance. Poor Lady! I love
"La Gitana
shakes out her hair
like a night wind blowing open a black gate.
Beyond it lie the fields--"
I wish it had not ended with empty arms, but "no me importa nada"--if you can believe that.

Lolamouse said...

Love this so much! What a fickle gato! This poem makes me wish my hair were long so I could shake it out like a night wind blowing open a black gate! Ahhhh...

Kay L. Davies said...

Fabulous write, Shay. I found it somewhat heartbreaking but wonderfully done.
K

HermanTurnip said...

While reading this, shades of "The Day Of The Triffids" was dancing through my head...

Cloudia said...

your poems are mini- acid trips



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Other Mary said...

Wow - I love this...there is so much here, amazing and unexpected images... knit together beautifully. (and I too enjoyed the note re. photo credits, lol)

Daryl said...

at last a name for a condition i seem to suffer

Margaret said...

...United Exotic Baptists !!! You are too funny. Your creativity is off the charts here... I don't pretend to understand it all, but I I loved:

he would bring her fat mice as though they were jewels--

and to her, I suppose they were. To each their own. :)

myheartslovesongs.com said...

that fickle el gato! stunning photograph!